LP0112 cat64a Of the Argonauts & Ariadne

Legendary Passages #0112,
The Poems of Catullus,
Part I of Poem [64],
Of the Argonauts & Ariadne.

Previously, Princess Ariadne was abandoned by Theseus on the island of Naxos. In this passage we revisit how she came to be  stranded there.

Now the structure of this poem is quite odd. It begins with the voyage of the Argonauts, where Prince Peleus fell in love the mermaid goddess Thetis, and Jupiter, King of the Gods, approved of the marriage. The people of Pelion Thessaly abandoned farm and field and gathered at the palace for the wedding of the hero and goddess.

It is here that Catullus describes a magnificent purple and ivory couch, decorated with images of an unkempt Ariadne, standing half-dressed on shores edge, watching Theseus row off without her.

Then as an aside, a summary of how they came to meet.  Her brother Androgeus slain, Athens plagued by the gods, and the young boys and girls due to Minos as tribute, for which Theseus volunteered. It was love at first sight for Ariadne; she gave him the thread to escape from the Labyrinth, so that they could live together, happily ever after. But fate had other plans for them....

Of the Argonauts & Ariadne.
a Legendary Passage from,
A. S. Kline translating,
Gaius Valerius Catullus,
Part I of Poem [64].

https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Latin/Catullus.php#anchor_Toc531846789

64. Of the Argonauts and an Epithalamium for Peleus and Thetis

Once they say pine-trees born on the heights of Pelion
floated through Neptune’s clear waves,
to the River Phasis and Aeetes’s borders,
with chosen men, oaks of the Argive people,
hoping to steal the Golden Fleece of Colchis
daring to course the salt deeps in their swift ship,
sweeping the blue waters with fir-wood oars.

The goddess herself who guards the heights of the city,
who joined the curving fabric to pinewood keel,
made their ship speed onwards with light winds.

That vessel was first to explore the unknown sea:
so, as she ploughed the windblown waters with her prow,
and whitened the churning waves with foam from the oars,
the Nereids lifted themselves from the dazzling white
depths of the sea, amazed at this wonder of ocean.
In those, and other days, mortal eyes saw the sea-nymphs
raise themselves, bodies all naked, as far as their nipples,
from the white depths.

Then Peleus, they say, was inflamed with love of Thetis,
then Thetis did not despise marriage with a mortal,
then Jupiter himself agreed to Thetis’s marriage.

O heroes, born in a chosen age, hail, godlike race!
O offspring of a blessed mother, hail once more.
Often I’ll address you, in my song.
And I address you, so blessed in your fortunate marriage,
chief of Pelian Thessaly, to whom Jupiter himself
creator of gods, yielded his beloved:
did not Thetis possess you, loveliest of Nereids?
Did not Tethys allow you to lead off her grand-daughter,
and Oceanus, who embraces the whole world with sea?

When at the time appointed the longed-for flames arise,
all of Thessaly crowds together to the palace,
the halls are filled with a joyful assembly:
they bring gifts with them, declaring their joy in their looks.

Cieros is deserted: they leave Pthiotic Tempe,
Crannon’s houses, and Larissa’s walls,
they gather in Pharsalia, crowd under Pharsalia’s roofs.

No one farms the fields, the necks of bullocks soften,
nor does the curved hoe clear beneath the vines,
nor does the ox drag earth outward with the blade,
nor does the sickle thin the shade of leafy trees,
coarse rust attacks the neglected plough.

But the palace gleams bright with gold and silver
through all the rich receding halls.
The ivory chairs shine, cups glisten on tables,
the whole palace gladdened with splendour of royal wealth.

In the midst of the palace a sacred couch, truly joyful
for the marriage of the goddess, gleaming with Indian ivory,
stained with the red dyes won from purple murex.
The cloth depicts in ancient forms, with marvellous art,
in all their variety, the excellence of gods and men.


Here are seen the wave-echoing shores of Naxos,
Theseus, aboard his ship, vanishing swiftly, watched
by Ariadne, ungovernable passion in her heart,
not yet believing that she sees what she does see,
still only just awoken from deceptive sleep,
finding herself abandoned wretchedly to empty sands.
But uncaring the hero fleeing strikes the deep with his oars,
casting his vain promises to the stormy winds.

The Minoan girl goes on gazing at the distance,
with mournful eyes, like the statue of a Bacchante,
gazes, alas, and swells with great waves of sorrow,
no longer does the fine turban remain on her golden hair,
no longer is she hidden by her lightly-concealing dress,
no longer does the shapely band hold her milk-white breasts
all of it scattered, slipping entirely from her body,
plays about her feet in the salt flood.
But, not caring now for turban or flowing dress, the lost girl
gazed towards you, Theseus, with all her heart, spirit, mind.

Wretched thing, for whom bright Venus reserved the thorny
cares of constant mourning in your heart,
from that time when it suited warlike Theseus,
leaving the curving shores of Piraeus,
to reach the Cretan regions of the unbending king.

For then forced by cruel plague, they say,
as punishment, to absolve the murder of Androgeos
ten chosen young men of Athens and ten unmarried girls
used to be given together as sacrifice to the Minotaur.
With which evil the narrow walls were troubled until
Theseus chose to offer himself for his dear Athens
rather than such Athenian dead be carried un-dead to Crete.
And so in a swift ship and with gentle breezes
he came to great Minos and his proud halls.

As soon as the royal girl cast her eye on him with desire,
she whom the chaste bed nourished, breathing
sweet perfumes in her mother’s gentle embrace,
even as Eurotas’s streams surround a myrtle
that sheds its varied colours on the spring breeze,
she did not turn her blazing eyes away from him,
till she conceived a flame through her whole body
that burned utterly to the depths of her bones.

Ah sadly the Boy incites inexorable passion
in chaste hearts, he who mixes joy and pains for mortals,
and she who rules Golgos and leafy Idalia,
even she, who shakes the mind of a smitten girl,
often sighing for a blonde-haired stranger!
How many fears the girl suffers in her weak heart!
How often she grows pallid: more so than pale gold.

As Theseus went off eager to fight the savage monster
either death approached or fame’s reward!
Promising small gifts, not unwelcome or in vain,
she made her prayers to the gods with closed lips.

Now as a storm uproots a quivering branch of oak,
or a cone-bearing pine with resinous bark, on the heights
of Mount Taurus, twisting its unconquered strength
in the wind (it falls headlong, far off, plucked out
by the roots, shattering anything and everything in its way)
so Theseus upended the conquered body of the beast
its useless horns overthrown, emptied of breath.

Then he turned back, unharmed, to great glory,
guided by the wandering track of fine thread,
so that his exit from the fickle labyrinth of the palace
would not be prevented by some unnoticed error.

https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Latin/Catullus.php#anchor_Toc531846789

This passage continues next episode with the homecoming of Theseus, and Ariadne's Curse.